Chapter 417: She Should Have Known Better

She should have known better—impulse was the devil.

If only she had swallowed her pride and focused on her pregnancy, the baby wouldn't have...

Donna Russo frowned. "Grant Holloway won't budge. We can't even get a meeting."

Trevor Russo's blood boiled.

Five million was within reach, but they'd foolishly demanded fifty instead. Were they trying to sabotage themselves?

He shot his mother a sidelong glance, irritation flashing in his eyes.

Still, he asked, "What now?"

Donna's gaze turned ruthless. "We're broke anyway. Might as well burn everything down."

At dawn the next day, they returned to Holloway Holdings.

The main entrance was tightly guarded—no chance of entry.

Then Trevor spotted a fire escape on the building's side.

The door was camouflaged by a massive advertisement, blending seamlessly into the wall.

It led straight to any floor.

But—

No elevator.

Thirty flights of stairs.

"Mom... maybe we should try something else?" Trevor swallowed hard.

Donna sneered. "Climb. Each floor is worth two hundred grand. You in or not?"

Suddenly, Trevor found his motivation.

For that kind of money, he'd crawl.

Fifty minutes later—

The pair stood gasping on the top floor.

Donna whipped out a wrench and smashed the fire door open.

Under stunned stares, she wailed: "Grant Holloway, you heartless bastard! You made my daughter miscarry! Give us justice or I'll die right here!"

"Someone judge this! Can rich people just trample widows and orphans?"

"If you won't let us live, I'll jump and haunt you forever!"

Her cries echoed down the empty hallway.

Too bad the soundproofing was excellent—no one else heard.

This floor housed only Grant's inner circle. Who'd dare speak up?

Donna kept screeching.

Secretaries exchanged uneasy glances.

Until—

She actually climbed onto a windowsill.

Panic finally set in.

She couldn't die here.

An office door swung open.

Grant stood there, cold eyes fixed on Donna perched by the window and Trevor's half-hearted attempts to "stop" her.

"Finished performing?"

"You want money?"

"Get in."

He turned without another word, his back rigid with finality.